The Bath
by chlday
Summary: Picks up where Chapter 56 of Ignite Me left off.


"Aaron – Aaron!"

I'm giggling but I'm jittery. This should not be such a big deal, I'm aware of that. He's already seen me. He's already touched me. His kisses have traced lines and left prints all across my body. We have been forehead-to-forehead, chest-to-chest, two bodies pressed perfectly together. And the way he sighed my name into my mouth as the final empty space between us was filled – God, there aren't words. No words could ever describe what that was like. How perfect it was. How whole I felt.

But the lights were off last night.

And now they're on.

And I can't stop giggling.

"So tell me, love. Which soaps were you stealing?"

Before I even answer, he sets me down on the ground, and the cool tile floor makes me shiver. I cross my arms over my chest immediately, and try to casually shift my hair over my body as he moves toward the bathtub. He dips a finger into the water, pauses, then twists the knobs, shutting them off. Steam is rising off the tub.

He straightens and turns back around. His green eyes graze over my body. My face.

I'm not giggling anymore.

"My dear Juliette," he says softly, and he returns to me, stands right in front of me. He's brushing my hair back over my shoulders, tucking some of the strands behind my ears.

God, I don't think my heart should be beating this fast.

All I can say is, "Aaron."

He cups my face and tilts his head toward me. His lips brush mine as he starts whispering against my mouth: "But soft," he says. "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliette is the sun."

I can barely breathe. "What are you talking about?"

He leans away, just a little. "Shakespeare. The guy who spelled your name wrong." Dimples. "That's how he described your beauty. Like a magnificent, rising sun. I think the analogy suits you." His brow furrows. "It's a shame I don't remember the rest of the passage."

"Shakespeare," I whisper, remembering the day I found out Warner likes to read. The day he showed me his tattoo.

I unfold my arms, hesitantly, shivering again as goosebumps pebble my bare skin. I press my fingers against his sides and let them slide, skimming the length of his torso until they land at his hips, where the tattoo is. I bite my lip and glance down.

He's so perfect.

His breathing hitches.

"Juliette," he whispers.

I meet his eyes. "Honeysuckle."

He blinks. His lips have parted slightly. "Uh, what?"

"The soap I stole. It was honeysuckle."

He grins, but he looks a little flustered. "Oh. Right. Let me just—"

He trails off and breaks away to find the soap. I tiptoe towards the tub.

"I had never taken a bath before I came here," I say, for no particular reason.

He's rummaging through the stacks of soap. "Is that right?"

I nod. Then I lift my foot, dipping a toe in the water, which I quickly retrieve with a sharp gasp. I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet.

Warner laughs. "I'm sorry, love. Is the water too hot?"

"N-no. It's fine. I just need to get used to it."

He's back at my side with a bar of soap in his hands, dimples in his cheeks. "Are you sure?"

I nod again. He places a finger under my chin, tilts my head back, and presses a gentle kiss against my mouth. The jittery tension seeps right out of my bones. And as always, he can feel it too. His lips curve into a smile against my mouth, and his arms circle around me, pressing me against him, and my heart definitely shouldn't be beating this fast, there's no way this is healthy.

"I can get used to this," he murmurs. "Oh, I can get used to this."

And now his kisses are getting deeper, and I swear there must be a heater in here somewhere, because I'm suddenly very hot, and I'm starting to wonder if I have a fever.

His hand cradles my cheek as he pulls away. His eyes are glinting.

"Shall we?" he asks, motioning towards the tub.

I suck in a deep breath and lift my foot again, test the temperature, and shrink away, cringing. Then I freeze as Warner takes my hand. He cocks his head to the side and places his own foot in the water, drawing in a tight breath. He squeezes his eyes shut and scrunches his nose.

"Alas. The water is very hot."

I try dipping my toe in again, this time forcing myself to stay put. After a few seconds the temperature is bearable and Warner sits down, pulling me into his lap as he leans back, resting his head against the lipped edge of the tub. He sighs contentedly, and I nestle against him.

We stay very still for a while. I listen to his heartbeat. I feel the rise and fall of his chest against my cheek. My fingertips roam the contours of his chest, and trace patterns down his stomach. I like the way he shudders under my touch. I like how his heartbeat starts to race, just like mine. He kisses the top of my head.

"Can I ask you something, love?"

"Of course."

His arm looped around my back tightens. "What else has been – new for you? Since you've come here."

I think for a moment. "Aside from the baths?"

"Aside from the baths."

My fingers sweep up his chest, to the spot between his collarbones. "Well, it had been a long time since I wore jeans. Does that count?"

He laughs shakily. "Sure, that counts. That's not really what I had in mind, though."

"What did you have in mind?"

He hesitates. Clears his throat. "I was thinking about – what we did last night. Was that your first time?"

My fingers go stiff and claw-like. "Oh."

He doesn't seem to be breathing. I'm grasping for words.

"So you – you have done that before?"

"No," I answer quickly. I shake my head. "That was my first time for pretty much everything."

He releases his breath. Then, "Pretty much?"

"I've only ever been kissed."

Now all the tension is gone. "Oh," he says. "Wow."

"Why?" I ask. "What do you mean by 'wow?'"

He shakes his head. His heart is beating fast again. "It just – you seemed very –" this is so strange, hearing Warner struggle to find the right words. "You were so – I mean it was incredible. You were incredible. And confident. You absolutely blew my mind, and it just made me wonder if you had – done that sort of thing before."

"Nope. First time."

"Wow."

I don't want to ask if that was his first time. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

Maybe I'll ask him someday.

He turns me around in his arms, making me face him. His eyelids are drooping and he's looking at my lips, and I dig my nails into his skin without really meaning to, and just like that, I'm hungry again. Hungry for him. His mouth. His body.

He exhales. And then his hands are at my face, his fingers in my hair as he kisses me.

The water sloshes in the tub as he sits up and starts bending me backwards, his kisses trailing down my throat as he pulls my hair, bunching it all together, wrapping it around his hands.

I gasp and cry out. My eyes close and my mouth stretches wide.

And now he's pulling me up to my feet, not caring that water is splashing over, not caring that the bar of soap has clattered to the floor.

His voice is husky as he says, "Turn around."

I spin, and he pulls one hand away from my hair, hooking it under my left thigh.

"Lift your foot, love. Put it on the edge of the tub."

I lift my foot, and plant it on the edge of the tub.

His breath comes out in a whoosh right by my ear. His fingertips skim up my thigh, until his hand curls around my hip. He pulls my hair again, and my face lifts until I'm looking at the ceiling, and he's pressing a kiss against my temple, he's nibbling gently at my earlobe. He's shifting and his teeth graze the side of my neck. He shudders and I can hear a moan building in his throat.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

All I can do is say his name.

"Aaron – Aaron—"


End file.
